Christy McKellen - Good Girl

So a trip to Florence it was.

With Juno Darlington-Hume.

Assuming I could convince her I’ve changed my mind about helping her out after the contemptuous rejection I threw down at her feet the night before. I suspected it was going to take a monumental amount of charm and a shit-ton of good fucking grace to talk her round. Luckily, those are qualities I have in abundance.

So when I got home I swallowed my pride, sourced her number from a friend of a friend and called her, leaving a message on her voicemail, inviting her out for a drink.

* * *

‘So in your message you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about,’ Juno says warily, once we’re seated in a booth in a chi-chi little cocktail bar in a backstreet of Soho that I’d chosen for its seclusion from the bustle of central London, and hopefully prying eyes. I don’t want word going round about us until Juno’s agreed to the proposal I’m about to lay out for her.

She’s pointedly ordered a virgin cocktail and I’ve had to bite my lip so as not to make a joke about the car-crash conversation we had last night in case it upsets her.

This whole situation needs to be handled very carefully.

I give her my secret-weapon smile and lean forward, spreading my hands on the table and locking my gaze with hers. ‘I want to apologise for the way I spoke to you last night. Your request took me by surprise and I didn’t handle it well.’

She stares back at me as if I’m speaking a foreign language and I panic for a second that I’ve slipped into Italian.

Seeming to snap out of her trance, she shakes her head. ‘You really don’t need to apologise. I’m the one that should be apologising. I don’t know what I was thinking, demanding...what I did...like that.’ She looks down at the table as if she can’t bear to maintain eye contact with me. ‘You were right. I was drunk and totally out of line.’

Her shame-faced confession sends a wave of relief through me and I sit back against the red velvet banquette, feeling a little more in control of things now. I can’t help but forgive her. It’s pretty clear the Juno of last night wasn’t the real her. It was just a glitch. A drunken mistake.

‘How old are you, Juno?’ I ask her gently, hoping to draw her out of her shell and gain her trust. Her shoulders are rigid and her chin dipped as if she’s pulled herself inward for protection. It makes me want to smooth my fingers down her spine to help her relax. She doesn’t seem to be able to look at me. Instead she’s playing with the cocktail menu, lining it up with the edge of the table.

‘Twenty-two.’

‘Why are you so eager to lose your virginity? Twenty-two isn’t old to still be a virgin.’

She takes a stuttering breath and finally looks up at me. ‘Because it seems to me that in order to be sexy you need to have had sex. At least, all the women I know that attract men’s attention are the ones that are really comfortable in their own skin. They ooze sex appeal. And none of them are virgins.’

‘How can you be sure?’ I ask, picking up the whisky sour I’ve ordered and taking a sip.

‘I’ve asked them.’

The drink gets caught in the back of my throat, making me cough.

‘Wow. So, what, you’ve just gone up to them and asked the question?’

‘Yes. For research purposes.’ She shrugs. ‘I like to investigate my subject thoroughly. It’s important to have all the information to be able to make an informed hypothesis.’

I frown, then flip it into a reassuring smile. ‘I don’t think you have to have had sex to be sexy. At least, not in my experience.’

‘Yes, well, unfortunately not everyone shares your viewpoint.’ She looks down at the table again.

‘Ah. So there’s another guy involved in this?’ I hazard a guess.

She visibly bristles. ‘Actually, I don’t think that’s any of your business.’ Her cheeks are bright pink and the expression in her eyes is defensive.

I hold up my hand. ‘Wait—you want me to take your virginity but you won’t tell me why?’

Her throat moves as she swallows. ‘That’s correct.’

I shake my head and frown, concerned about what I might be stepping into the middle of here.

‘I’m really not comfortable with saying yes to this unless I know why you want it. We need to be able to be open and honest with each other. It’s important we trust each other if we’re going to get that close and intimate,’ I say slowly, trying to sound as if I’m looking out for both our interests here.

She stares at me for a moment, then nods, and I can tell from the pained expression on her face that she’s been struggling with what she’s about to tell me. My gut clenches and I stretch back in the seat to ease it. It’s a troubling feeling and not something I’ve experienced much. I usually only get it when I come across a woman I really like but can’t have. Or one that I’m not supposed to have, at least.

‘Okay, fine. I suppose it is better if you know the whole story.’ She takes a shaky breath and splays her hands on the table, staring down at her fingers as she begins to talk. ‘There’s this man—Adam Cormack—he’s a lecturer at St George’s University where I’m doing my PhD.’ I see her swallow and a small pinch appears between her brows. ‘And I...er... I like him...a lot.’

‘But he’s not into you?’

She shuffles a little in her seat. ‘Well, he likes me, I think. We’ve been on a few dates, but I think he’s concerned about how...er...inexperienced I am. He’s a bit older than me and I think he’s looking for someone more like him. Well, not a man like him, but someone with the same sort of life experience as him.’

I smile. ‘You mean he doesn’t want to fuck you because you’re a virgin?’

The frankness of my words seems to shock her and her face flames, bright splashes of red highlighting her pale cheeks.

‘Yes,’ she mutters. ‘But in a much more gentlemanly way than you make it sound.’ She’s having trouble meeting my eye again and picks up her cocktail, taking a big gulp, then pushes her shoulders back in an obvious attempt to appear more confident, but it just looks stiff and awkward. My heart goes out to her. Her shyness is actually a real turn-on, if I’m honest.

‘He’s the only man I’ve ever felt this strongly about,’ she murmurs. ‘And I’ve decided it’s time to stop hiding under a rock, get out there and go for what I really want. And if that means showing him I’m worldly and mature enough to handle a relationship with him, then that’s what I’m going to do.’

I have a moment of unease where I worry that I’m about to take advantage of her heartache, but I push it firmly away. She came to me first, after all.

Clearly she’s sensed my concern, though, because she says, ‘Look, do you think you can help me or not? Because if you’re not interested I’m going to go and find someone who is.’ As if to prove her point, she stands up and reaches for her bag.

Panic ripples through me. I can’t let her walk away. I need this to work out.

‘Perhaps I could help,’ I say quickly, holding up a hand to halt her. ‘If we can agree on a couple of conditions.’

Her eyes widen with hope and she sits back down in her seat. ‘I’m listening.’

‘Okay.’ I nod. ‘I want you to come to Florence with me for a week, go out on some dates with me there, so we can get to know each other first. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but it’s not my style to just jump into bed with a woman without getting to know her a little first. And honestly...’ I lean forward, giving her a friendly smile ‘... I think you’ll be more comfortable with the whole situation if we handle it that way. With a little class.’